no one has become poor (by giving)
by finaljoy
Summary: Jim knew you weren't supposed to feed strays, else they would come back and never leave. But it was just a plate of spaghetti, and it was only once. And besides, he was a capable, responsible adult. He could take care of a stray...except his stray was a little girl. And instead of fleas, she has a smart mouth and a penchant for stealing things. This was such a good idea.
1. a random act of kindness

_AN I love Gotham and all of the quality relationships on there an unhealthy amount, but what I reeeeeeally love is the relationship between Jim and Selina. That whole push and pull, father-daughter, ugh-you're-really-annoying-but-also-kinda-amusing-so-here-we'll-stay thing they've got going on is totally my jam._

_(my other quiet obsessions within the show may creep in and my 'may' i mean 'totally will it's only a matter of time')_

* * *

"You wanna tell me what you're doing on my veranda?"

Selina jumped at the sound of Jim's voice, and looked read to balk. She was huddled under the ledge, hiding from the rain. Apparently, it had been loud enough to cover the door opening, or she was just so lost in staring at the city she hadn't noticed.

"Just keeping dry," she said, voice nonchalant. Still, her eyes were pinned on him, searching for any sign of his advance.

"At the top of this particular apartment complex? That you had to scale in the rain?"

Selina somehow managed to look even more aloof as she shrugged.

"It caught me by surprise. I hate getting wet."

"Yeah, just at the top of your list of worries," Jim muttered, then glanced at the sky.

"You're gonna hafta move sometime."

"I've got time."

"I don't. And you are trespassing, in case you weren't sure."

"What, gonna send me to another youth correctional facility? Hand cuff me to a jail sell?"

"Do I look like I'm on duty?" he asked, holding his hands out at his sides for her inspection. Selina gave a reluctant flick of her eyes, taking him in. She shifted back into a slightly less tense position when she noticed had no shoes on, and was hanging in the doorway to avoid wetting his socks.

"I dunno, you cop types probably go to bed with handcuffs ready. I bet your girlfriend _loves_ that."

_Jim Gordon you are not going to respond to that she meant it exactly as you think she did you will not to this with a kid._

"Right."

"Whatcha got cookin' in there?" she asked unexpectedly, nodding inside. Jim glanced around, wondering if she could see or smell his dinner. "You came out chewing something, so."

"Beef stroganoff."

Selina's immediate expression of uncertain disgust was _priceless._

"_Relax_, it's spaghetti. And you, what's your menu looking like?"

"Lobster," she said, voice once again cool in the face of his well-meaning gruffness. "Turtle broth for the soup course. I _think_ Winston was going to even make a crème brulee, but dessert's _always_ up in the air."

Jim huffed out a laugh. He knew the kid was quick on her feet, good word did he _know_, but it was nice seeing her banter because she felt like it, not because it saved her life.

He walked back into the apartment, the door swinging slightly shut behind him. He could feel Selina watching, and a part of him wondered if she would take that as an invitation inside. Then he scoffed, because she was also very smart, and didn't trust a soul. Plus, he had _way_ more criminals in his home than he'd ever wanted.

He returned a few moments later, vaguely pleased to find her still perched on the veranda wall.

"Here," he said, holding out the plastic wrapped plate of spaghetti to her. Selina looked very alarmed at his offering.

"I don't do charity."

"Consider it a thank you for your help on my cases."

"I'm much prefer a pass on all further arrests."

"Watch it," he growled, but it was light enough to make her smile. "Besides, what street kid would turn down free food?"

Selina still didn't move.

"What, you'd rather steal it when I'm not looking?"

She rolled her eyes, and darted over to grab the plate from him. Jim smiled at her in triumph.

"And get some real cover. It's supposed to get nasty later."

She grumbled something like _'screw off,_' which only made his smirk grow as he closed the veranda door.

Ten minutes later, when he checked outside again, the empty plate was tucked out of the rain. He ducked out and grabbed it, not at all surprised she made him clean up after her. Jim still didn't regret giving her extra meatballs.


	2. they're only guidelines

_AN I had this whole scene planned out and then last week's episode came and did something almost exactly like it so here we are._

_It is also probably a good idea to mention that this story has pretty much nothing to do with the canon. Elements like characters or cases may be woven in, but this wanders along its own route :)_

* * *

Jim had suspected that Selina was periodically breaking into his home, but he would have been pretty comfortable if they had never been confirmed. That being said, he knew he was allowing himself a hollow luxury when he called out Barbara's name when he heard a rustle in the kitchen. This was only reaffirmed when he found himself chasing Selina out the back door a few moments later. He caught ahold of her ankle as she tried to launch over the wall of his veranda, and for a beat they were stuck in a strange tug of war.

"_Selina_," he grit out, "Stop it."

She glared at him, and heaved a little harder. He pulled her back, saying, "_Look_. I'm not going to arrest you."

She raised an eyebrow, but his flat look of exasperation must have been trustworthy enough, as she slowly stopped struggling.

"What do you want, then?"

"To talk."

"I've told you all I can about the Waynes!"

Jim raised his own eyebrow, silently asking if she _really_ thought he was going to talk shop when he had found her eating his food and then trying to pole vault off of his veranda. She looked down sheepishly.

He took a risk, and gingerly let go of her ankle. Selina settled back on his side of the rail, but didn't let go in case she needed to launch over.

"Could you come inside? I've kinda been on my feet all day."

He gestured at the door, which had been left open in their rush. She worked her jaw, then sniffed, "Fine."

"_Thank you,_" he sighed, relieved she was going to be reasonable. They went back inside, where Jim promptly dropped into a chair. Selina stayed standing, but seemed a little more relaxed than before.

"So. How often have you been breaking into my home?"

She pressed her lips together, like she didn't have the time of day for that question. Jim sighed again.

"Selina I _caught_ you in my kitchen, and I've noticed signs for ages. Why'd you break in?"

"Ivy was sick," she grit out. He stared at her, not understanding. Selina heaved a sigh, and dared to lean against the arm of the couch. "My friend, Ivy, she was sick, it was raining, she needed a place to sleep where crack heads wouldn't pee on her."

"You brought friends, great."

"Only once. And it wasn't like _you_ were here."

"That doesn't mean you can _break in._" Like that would make a dent in her ambivalent morality.

Jim drew in a breath, casting his eyes around the hollow, lavish apartment.

"You stayin' in the same place as her, as Ivy?"

"Huh?"

"Are you staying in the same place as her? With the rain and the crack heads."

"Not if I can help it," Selina scoffed. He had a feeling she _couldn't_ help it, not most of the time. "Why?"

"Because that's not a place for kids," he mused. A thought was forcing its way into his head, and maybe it was because he was running on coffee and the dregs of a hot dog, or because he had been awake for _far_ too long, but it actually seemed…not awful. Heaven help him.

"I _told_ you, I'm not going to some _home, _and you can't catch me and put me into juvie."

He sent her a look that said he _had_, in fact, just caught her, and could, in fact, send her to jail.

"I'm not talking about those," he said, and hell, there he went.

"What?"

Jim sighed again, and ran a hand over his face.

"I have a feeling that you're going to keep coming here, so I'm gonna set up some ground rules."

"_What_?"

"Yep. If you break them, I will personally haul your ass to jail." Jim sent her a look that said he was _not_ screwing round, and Selina seemed to actually believe it. "First, if you take _anything,_ and I will know, you're out. _No bringing people here._ You want a halfway house, find one. And _don't_ break the law while you're here. No booze, no cigarettes, no drugs."

"_Somebody_ sucks all the fun out of things," she grumbled, but he had a feeling it was more to ruffle his feathers than anything.

"Someone has to, in this town."

Selina gave a soft snort at his shiny badge of human decency, and gave him a long look.

"Why're you doing this?"

"Hm?"

"Why d'_you_ care? I mean, there are a _lot_ of cops in the city, and a lot of 'em even seem to care about kids like me. But they put us in homes, or the system. No one _brings_ _us home._ So what's your angle? What're you tryin' to get?"

"Some sense of peace," he sighed. "I mean, if you're here, you're not robbing some chump. And since you're not about to let me put a _tracker_ on you, I figure knowing what you're doing some of the time is better than nothing."

"That's it?" she asked, doubt heavy in her voice. "You just want to make sure I've got some place nice and warm to lay my head?"

Jim gave her a tired look that he was completely _done_ with everything.

"I'm not some creep that goes after little girls."

"Good. Because I would cut off your dick if you tried."

Jim gave her a look that asked _why_ she would even say that, because if he focused on the ludicrous nature of their conversation, he wouldn't have to pay attention to how deadly serious she was, under the bravado.

"Okay. Sure. If I try anything, go ahead," he sighed, and leaned his head back into the cushions. Selina gave a snort, and turned around to face the veranda again.

"Where're you going?"

"Dunno. Staying here's a lot less fun when I've got your blessing."

"Okay." He was in absolutely no state to argue with her. Now that he'd had the situation with her more or less sorted, he wanted to take off his shoes, wash his face, and then crawl into bed.

Jim huffed out a slight laugh when he heard Selina kick the door closed behind her, rather than just leave it open.

* * *

_AN It should probably be said that m__y spatial reckoning for Jim's apartment is definitely not one hundred percent, so if I say there's a thing in here that doesn't exist in the show, well Jim's been shopping away his pain. Also remodeling. Just go with it._


	3. it's not concern, really

_AN neglected but not forgotten THIS STORY RISES FROM THE COBWEBS OF MY BRAIN_

_also yeah i've been sitting on three chapters for months i'm sorry_

* * *

To Jim's immense lack of surprise, he didn't see Selina for weeks. A part of him half expected to find her perched on his counter, brazenly munching her way through his fridge. After a few days had passed and nothing had happened, however, he moved on to more important things.

A new case fell on his desk, and he was caught up in the details of catching a very normal, not weird killer. He worked out the details of his living arrangements with Barbara (he got to stay in the apartment until the lease was up, while she was off wandering Europe). The mob encounters noticeably dropped. Even the rampant hostility between him and half of the police force managed to tame itself somewhat.

At the back of his mind, though, he wondered about Selina. He hadn't laid down those rules to chase her away, he had simply wanted to limit the number of headaches he would have in future. But she seemed to be rebelling against his gruff kindness, rejecting any sort of codependency. Which was fine, he honest didn't need the hassle. But he also hoped that her living conditions were at least sanitary.

Finally, a month after his exhausted conversation with her, Jim caught sight of the girl. He was standing in line for a Cubano with Harvey (_better than the hot dogs, Gordon, I swear)_ when he saw her sauntering down the street. She had a soft pretzel in one hand and was flipping through a phone with the other.

"_Hey,"_ he called, stepping toward her. Selina flinched and looked around, eyes immediately scanning for danger. They settled on him, and it took her a long moment to relax into a confident, careless stance.

"What?" she said, tossing the word to him over the road. Jim took that as permission to come closer, and cut over to her.

"New phone?" he asked skeptically, nodding at the pocket where she had stowed the cell.

"Oh, yeah, just got on the new family plan. All the hobos are getting them. Part of the mayor's new campaign."

Jim didn't even bother to roll his eyes.

Selina looked healthy enough. Her face was a little dirty but uninjured, and she didn't look skittish like something _extra_ bad had happened. It seemed she had been catching a bit of a break as well.

"Whaddya want?" she asked, rocking back on her heels. "Trying to get me into a new home?"

"No," Jim said, suddenly realizing he didn't know _why_ he had called out to her. He had just been curious, just wanted to check that she was okay. "A killer's been making the rounds, posed as a homeless person. Apparently he's been focusing on your area."

"The city's my whole area."

"Yeah, yeah. Just keep an eye out for anything particularly strange."

"Am I you rat now, Detective Gordon?" Selina asked, raising her eyebrows in a shocked fashion. Jim gave her a look that was more '_why are you harassing me' _than '_don't sass my authority'_ and shook his head.

"Just stay away from him, if you see anything suspicious. Be smart."

"Always am," she retorted, swinging away on her heel. Jim watched her saunter off for a moment, then sighed. He should have asked for the phone. Now she was going to hawk it, first chance she got. At least maybe then she'd be able to afford something more substantial than a pretzel.

He turned back to Harvey, who was staring at him with a raise eyebrow. Even the way he handed over the Cubano was judgmental.

"Just making sure she was being good," Jim grumbled defensively.

"Yep, because the sassy, crazy little witness _always_ needs checking up on."

"She's been involved in at least _two_ major crimes already. Sue me for worrying about her getting into trouble."

"Sure, sure," Harvey smirked, biting into his sandwich.

* * *

_AN jim totally cares about her and it's great_


	4. accept it and move on

_AN This story is always a little strange to write, because I normally gravitate to very long chapters. But I'm really liking the concise, snapshot sort of feel these shorter chapters give the story._

* * *

Jim finished brushing his teeth and at the clock in his bathroom. Almost seven forty-five, he needed to leave. He rinsed his toothbrush and dropped it back into the cup (he was almost used to it being alone. Almost.).

Jim opened the bathroom door and walked to where his suit jacket was draped on the bed.

"You hum, you know that?"

Jim started and reached instinctively to his hip for his gun. It was probably a good thing it was still hanging up in the hallway.

"_Dammit,_ Selina, what are you doing here?" he demanded, suddenly _very_ thankful he got dressed in the bathroom. Jim wasn't sure if he could handle her sass garbed only in a towel.

She was sprawled at the desk, rocking the chair back as she munched an apple. She raised an eyebrow at him and took another bite.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"She's said worse. _Why_ are you _here?_"

She shrugged and looked out the window.

"You _are_ the one that gave an open invitation," she reminded him. Jim grit his teeth, wondering if he was allowed to put bans on visits between midnight and nine o'clock. Then again, he wasn't especially comfortable with her roaming his apartment when he wasn't there, either. _Why_ had he thought it a good idea to encourage this?

"Off to pay the bills?" she asked the window.

"_Yes,_ actually," he said, pulling on his suit jacket. Jim grabbed his badge and keys from his nightstand. "I'd appreciate you not adding to them."

"Sure you would."

Jim tugged on his shoes.

"Don't break anything."

"Okay then."

"Don't mess with the stove or oven."

"Yeah, yeah."

"_Do not_ take a five hour shower."

"Whatever."

He rolled his eyes and walked to the door. He stopped just before he left and turned back around.

"Why're you here?"

Selina shrugged again, and Jim thought she wouldn't answer. Then she said, "Just wanted some quiet."

He nodded and left for work.

* * *

Jim was distracted all morning. Finally, Harvey huffed and slapped down the folder he was looking at.

"_Gordon,_ what's gotten into you?"

"What?" Jim jumped and stared at Harvey.

"You've been a space case all day. What, leave the stove on? Ditch a girl with a lame excuse?"

Jim gave Harvey a face and leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen on the edge of his desk.

"It's nothing."

"'Nothing' isn't ignoring Nygma when he asks you a questions three times," he informed Jim. _Disapproving mother_ was such an unflattering look on him.

"I'm just a little distracted."

"Yeah, why? Let me in, I haven't had any good gossip lately," Harvey said, an overly eager look on his face. Despite Harvey Bullock's prickly, uncaring exterior, he had a terrible habit of becoming overly involved in the petty drama of _everyone's _lives. He may have complained and criticized Jim endlessly while he and Barbara had broken up, but there had been a distinct amount of excitement in his face whenever he coaxed the newest installment out of Jim.

"A stray cat's decided to make itself at home on my balcony. I'm pretty sure I left a window open, and I don't want to come home to find the place wrecked." Harvey stared at him with that eager expression for a few seconds before he realized that was it.

"A stray cat_?"_

Yep, it's half-starved and everything," he said, not looking up from the note he was writing.

"A _cat?"_ Harvey repeated. Jim heaved a sigh and looked at him.

"_What._"

"_A_ _cat _has got you twitchy. You hunt down psychos and hang out with mobsters—" Harvey dropped his voiced, then raised it once he had passed the incriminating part "—and some _pet_ is making you nervous?"

"Not my apartment, remember?"

"_Right,_ lady friend is letting you borrow it while she's finding herself in Spain or something."

"She's not letting me _borrow_ it," he said defensively.

"Yeah, you're the house sitter with benefits."

Jim's look could have killed, it really could have.

"All I'm saying," Harvey said quickly, "is that that cat is the _least_ of your problems right now. Hell, even your _personal life_ is screwed up. Worry about those, not a cat."

"Yeah, sure," Jim said, returning his attention to his report. Except his cat might have been peddling his furniture as they spoke.

* * *

_AN Harvey Bullock is my grumpy slovenly lackadaisical prince I dare you to fight me on this._


End file.
